One more week...

That's what the doctor said, "One more week."  It's been almost 2 weeks since my foot was sliced on the roots of a fallen tree, and it hasn't been easy. Every day I've complained and complained about how much I'm in a hole with this injury, and how much I can't wait to get back on my bike.  I've said I'm upset and missing my bikes, and I've written extensively on why riding is so important to me.  I've expressed the idea that I didn't want to be upset, and that I would overcome this whole thing being the better for it at the end, and I've completely thrown that idea out of the window as well.  Fact is, I can't do shit about it.  Things have to run their course, and nature has to work it's magic.  The wound will heal when it heals, and no matter how much complaining I do, I'm not going to be able to make the time go any faster.

So what, then, makes this post any different from any other that I've written in the past two weeks?  I'm not sure.  I think I've been through the worst of this, and to be honest, I expected the diagnosis the doc gave today.  Something inside told me that I would need at least another week to heal, and no amount of wishful thinking was going to change that.  It's funny, the biggest 'sting' of this entire process didn't come when my foot was being split open, it happened when I was told I would have to go into a second week without riding.  Since, I've been up and I've been down, but not down to the extent of being so depressed as I was at that moment.

Since the time I began taking exercise seriously, probably around the time of my 17th birthday, I can't remember a time when I've gone more than seven consecutive days without sweating it out.  Sure I've had 'rest' weeks, but that was more of doing what I normally do, but just with less intensity.  I've never been sidelined.  This is new ground.  Perhaps this is in preparation for the day when I can literally no longer continue to do what I love.  I hope by then I'm able to fill that void with something that will excite me the way that riding and physical actions do.

The most frustrating part of this is that I do not have complete control over what's happening.  Sure, I can do everything in my power to help the process along (washing, keeping it clean, not doing too much on it), but even with all that, it's going to take time.

I'm not sure when I became so high strung, but perhaps my personality dictates that I don't like to wait.  I've been lucky in my life to have the ability to attain whatever I put my mind to.  I know that if I really believe in something and want it bad enough, I'll get it.  It's a gift as well as a curse.  It's never let me down, at least in the way that I've achieved many of the goals I've set out before myself.  Disappointment, though, is something that I don't like.  Who does?  If anything, this process has taught me to be just a bit more patient.  I can't say that I'm cured, but I'm closer to being more accepting of things that don't quite go my way.

Whatever the 'lesson' is in this, I know that I'll be changed in some way or another.  I don't classify this as a life changing event,  but rather a life learning event.  This is the same lesson we learn the first time we burn our hands on the stove out mother's told us not to touch, or hit out fingers with the hammer that our father's said to be careful with.  It's one of those lessons that primitive man learned for survival.  Don't drop big rock on foot. Foot hurt after big rock drop on foot.  AAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!  I'm convinced it was at this point in history when curse words were invented.

Moving on.  This weekend should be another in which I'll hopefully get some work done and expand my brain while my waistline does the same.  Sitting on my ass is not something I like to do often, but I suppose I'm getting used to it.